First Steps
by Gillian Middleton
Summary: This is just something that's been on my mind about Daniel Elkin's and John. So spoilers for Dean Man's Blood.I wondered how they met and why they fell out. This is just a short exploration of that idea.


**Title:** First Steps  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters**: John. Daniel Elkins  
**Rating: **G**  
Total word count: **3 500  
**Warning:** None. This is just something that's been on my mind about Daniel Elkin's and John. So spoilers for _Dean Man's Blood._  
**Authors notes & Summary:** I wondered how they met and why they fell out. This is just a short exploration of that idea.

**First Steps.**

by Gillian

Daniel honked his horn outside the Rectory gates and waited as a dark shadow detached itself from one of the gateposts and walked over. The newcomer was a big man, although perhaps not as big as first impressions gave. His jacket was bulky and he had wide shoulders and trim hips. He walked like a soldier and Daniel made his first quick assessment as he tossed his duffel bag in the back of the utility and pulled open the passenger door.

"Daniel Elkins?" he said politely.

"John Winchester," Daniel greeted. "Better climb in, boy. We've got three states to cover before we get to my place."

He saw the look John gave him at the 'boy', and Daniel supposed he was pushing it when he only had a dozen or so years on the younger man, but John let it pass and Daniel watched as he stepped up into the cab of the truck and buckled his seatbelt. He watched a moment longer as John turned his gaze on him, and it showed him everything he'd been expecting and more.

"That interfering preacher better've warned you," Daniel said, finally putting the truck in gear and moving off. "This is no summer camp I'm taking you to, boy."

"I appreciate the ride," John said. He had a low voice with a touch of a drawl. Jim said he haled from Kansas but Daniel thought he heard a trace of deeper south in that whiskey rough tone.

It was a long ride but John was the quiet type and Daniel appreciated it. He wasn't much of a talker himself, preferred his own company and when he did talk it was usually about a job, and then usually to someone who knew what he was talking about.

And that was why John Winchester was here. To learn.

-666-

"_If you're driving through anyway, Dan, you could pick him up."_

_"I wasn't planning on dropping in for coffee and cake," Daniel answered shortly. "It's not exactly on my way."_

_There was a short silence on the line. "I'd appreciate it if you could, Dan. I'm scared for this one, I admit it. He's going to go out and get himself killed, you can see it in his eyes. I've told him all I can, taught him all I know. But you're the better hunter and he needs what you can teach him now."_

_Daniel grunted. He'd trained a few others over the years, even helped some of them find the vengeance or the closure or whatever the hell it was they sought. Most of them gave it up and went back to the real world after a while._

_"All right," he said shortly. "Have him outside on Tuesday night, I'll swing by. You make sure he knows, Jim. Make sure he knows what he's letting himself in for."_

-666-

To Daniel the night was his daytime. He got up as the moon rose, ate his meals under a bare bulb or by a fire when he camped. Walked the trails he knew and tracked along the ones he didn't under moonlight. By day he drew thick curtains and slept. It came from a lifetime of hunting, because sure as shit the evil things out there told time by the same clock. Darkness and shadow was where they lived, and so a hunter lived that way as well.

That was the first thing Daniel taught John Winchester, and it seemed an easy lesson. The man didn't look like he'd slept much in a while so it wasn't difficult to keep him awake at night. He seemed to only doze by day, sometimes on the hard cot which was all Daniel kept for visitors, and sometimes in the easy chair by the unlit fireplace.

And even then it was an uneasy doze, a frown puckered his brow, his eyelids quivered, his hands, even in sleep, clutched at the side of the chair as if to hold himself still. He woke a dozen times, stood, stretched, took a piss or a walk. Then tried to doze again.

But he seemed able to function on it and Daniel let it pass. By night they walked the forest and Daniel tested the man's skills. Tracking, following sign, keeping to the shadows, blending in. And he taught him stillness, which wasn't as easy as it sounded and had broken lesser men. It was akin to a trance, Daniel thought. Not so much a state of being as a place you went to, in your head. Your body was still, your senses alive to the night, but your mind, it was resting, waiting. Coiled, ready to spring.

John took to that and you could see it was more like he was remembering it than learning it. Daniel nodded to himself, suspicions confirmed. Not just a soldier then, but one who had seen action. A fighting man, especially in the jungle, learned that waiting state. Learned to let his heartbeat slow, his blood settle. Knew how to cultivate patience.

It seemed to help and after a week John looked more rested. The shadows under his eyes faded and that fine tremor left his hands. Daniel suspected that part of that had been alcohol withdrawal, he recognized the signs. First day John arrived he'd locked his own supply away. No use tormenting the man.

There was only so much practical work a man could do without hunting, so Daniel called his contacts and had them look for a job to work, and while they waited he set John to the books.

And John devoured them. Long after dawn when Daniel retired to his room with its thick curtains, John sat up, eyes flying over the words, solemn gaze taking in the pictures, studying the runes and sigils. Daniel showed him his journal and John pulled one of his own from his duffel.

"I wrote a few things down, after..." he said gruffly, flipping it open. There were some military insignia and rank pinned in the front, marine corps it looked like. And a photo Daniel didn't get a close look at. And some pages of yellow and white paper, covered with scribbled scrawl.

"Did it help?" Daniel asked curiously. His own journal was work, not memories.

"No," John said shortly. He opened it to a fresh page and copied a couple of the sigils down. Daniel noted which ones and nodded. Exorcism. Protection. Banishment.

They drove to Montana their third week. Demonic possession, and a nasty one. Daniel introduced him to Pete, a former New York investment banker whose youngest son had murdered the rest of the family while possessed. John stood in the background as Daniel and Pete worked, tying the young girl down, chanting the words, painting the symbols on the ground. When she pulled free of her bonds and swung John a black-eyed look he held his ground.

"You think you're one of them?" she screamed, flecks of spittle and blood flying from her cracked lips. "You'll burn like she did! She burns still!"

Pete finished the exorcism with the name of God and she arched, her mouth opening and blackness spewing out, trapped by the pentagram and dissolving to shadow and dust.

The girl collapsed back but when Daniel turned around John had left the room. He didn't blame him.

-666-

"So, who did you lose?" Daniel asked as they drove back to Colorado. It was past midnight and the roads were empty. Only the sound of their wheels on the highway and the low, mournful twang of country on the radio broke the silence.

John shot him a surprised look and Daniel didn't blame him. They hadn't had one personal word between them in three weeks beyond pass the ketchup.

"There's only two reasons I know of for a man to get into this business," Daniel explained. "First is that he lost someone, or maybe even more'n one someone, like Pete. And it's not just the losing, you understand. It's what they feel and see and know about how it all happened. When no one else in the world will believe them and a lesser man might just go mad over it. But they don't go mad, they get determined. And they dig and they hunt and when a man really does that, well, he's bound to turn up things others miss. All that stuff out there in the dark. Just waiting."

John seemed to turn this over in his mind for a while. "And the other reason?"

"You're raised to it," Daniel said shortly.

"Which were you?"

"Huh," Daniel grunted, aware he didn't have his own answers yet. "Both, I guess. Vampires attacked us when I was just a kid. Six or seven I guess. Killed my dad straight off, kept me and my mom to feed on."

"Vampires?" John breathed. "So they're real too?"

"Reckon there's not much in legend and lore that isn't real, one way or another," Daniel told him. "We don't talk too much about vampires any more just because there aren't that many left. And the man that found me and my mother, the man that rescued me and raised me, him and others like him are the reason. Vampires killed his family, and Old Army killed theirs."

"Army?"

"Armisted Elkins, his name was, but everyone called him Army."

"And he raised you? What about your mother?"

"Reckon they bit a little too deep. She bled out." Daniel didn't flinch from the truth. It was all a long time ago now, and he'd never really had the fire burning in him the way Old Army had. "Anyway, he took me in. Said he was gonna teach me all I needed to know to get revenge, and he did. But I reckon he was just lonely." Daniel slanted John a look. "It's a lonely life, but a worthy one, if a man can stick to it."

"You've stuck with it," John noted.

"Old Army died when I was twenty. Always said a vampire would get him but it was his heart in the end. Just woke up dead one night." Daniel grinned and shook his head. "Must have been a hell of a shock to the old bastard, dying in bed."

"But you stayed a hunter," John persisted and Daniel could see it was important to him. He wondered if John was having second thoughts.

"Never really knew anything else," Daniel told him. "I drifted a while, then I drifted back into my old life. Thing is, when you've seen evil. When you've touched it..." He shook his head. "Well I guess it touches you right back. And that changes you. Maybe some folks can go back to the real world after that. But I never could."

"The real world," John said softly, eyes far away. "Over there we used to say that. The real world. When we get back to the world..."

"Yeah," Daniel said grimly. "Not the world you were expecting, John?"

John shook his head. "Did you ever...?" He trailed off, cleared his throat. "You never took anyone in, like Army did for you?"

"Some like you. Maybe helped a few folks stay alive a while longer. But not a kid, like Army did with me. I wouldn't do that to a kid."

"Do you wish he hadn't?" John asked, and there was something in his voice there that Daniel couldn't pick up on.

"That's a hell of a question, boy," Daniel returned shortly, tiring of the chatter.

Silence crept back in and they didn't break it for a long while.

"It was my wife," John said gruffly. "Mary."

"Huh," Daniel grunted acknowledgement. It was no more than he'd guessed with wedding ring on John's finger.

They never really spoke again.

-666-

Four weeks after he'd picked him up Daniel drove the truck through the gates in Blue Earth and stopped outside the Rectory.

"Will you come in this time?" John said.

"You still got a long way to go, John, you know that," Daniel told him abruptly. Something had been on his mind and he wanted to get it out. "And I reckon there's still a lot I could teach you. You're welcome to come back, you know? I'm not saying we partner up or anything..." Daniel trailed away as a little fair haired kid pushed open the front door and raced out onto the porch.

"Daddy!" he yelled, and then John was pushing out the door and reaching out and scooping the kid up. Four or five, short neat blonde hair that looked like it had just been trimmed, button nose and tear smudged face. "I missed you," he said, burying his face in John's neck.

"I missed you too," John muttered, big arms wrapped around the thin form.

A tide of anger raged over Daniel, so strong it surprised him. Stiffly he pushed open the door and jumped from the truck, his bad knee twinging a little as he landed. Jim was on the porch now, a dark haired baby in his arms and Daniel's anger turned solid inside him. Ignoring John and the boy in his arms he strode over to the porch and stood on the bottom step.

Jim met his glance and there was an apology in his eyes but Daniel didn't care to acknowledge it.

"Did you tell him to keep quiet about this, Jim?" he demanded.

"I didn't tell John any more about you than I did you about him," Jim said quietly, shifting the baby onto his shoulder and patting his back.

Daniel narrowed his eyes, his rage now cold and deadly inside him. Jim knew how he felt about this and the preacher's face admitted it.

"Come inside, Dan," Jim invited. "We'll talk about this."

"I got nothing to say to you," Daniel said flatly.

John walked past and him, lowering the little boy to the wooden porch and accepting the infant from Jim's arms. The baby had a head of wavy brown hair like his daddy's, and big solemn eyes that just looked up at his father for a moment. Then he smiled, showing off two pearly white front teeth in a mouthful of gums.

"Hey, Sammy." John's eyes crinkled when he smiled, something Daniel hadn't known about because the subject of smiling hadn't come up in the last four weeks.

"Please, Daniel," Jim said quietly, but insistently, nodding along the porch and Daniel gritted his teeth and followed him, past the happy little family reunion. He owed Jim Murphy a favor or two, else he'd have walked away, maybe landing a punch or two on the way.

John spared Daniel a quick glance as he brushed past, and the look he gave was full of understanding, but there was no apology there. And why should he be sorry? He'd gotten what he wanted and he hadn't even had to lie. Just keep his mouth shut, something that seemed to come pretty natural to him anyway.

"I know I should have said something," Jim admitted as he grasped the porch railing. "But I never lied to you, Dan. I was worried about him, really worried. I can already see that I was right to send him to you. He doesn't look like he's teetering on the edge of something any longer."

"No, he's chosen his path," Daniel spat out. "And I helped put his feet on it. D'you think that's gonna make it any easier for me live with? He's got those kids, Jim! You know how I feel about that."

"John was on this path long before he met me or you, Dan," Jim said sadly. "All I wanted was for him to stay alive long enough to walk it."

Dan leaned forward until his face was only inches from Jim's. "Might have been better for those two little kids if he'd got himself killed on it, Jim," he hissed bitterly. "Might have been the only chance they had for a normal life."

"I'm afraid that was decided long before you or I got involved as well," Jim said, looking down for a moment, face in shadow. When he looked back up Daniel could see he was going to apologize again but he cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it, Jim. I still owe you a few favors and I'll pay them back. But don't send me another of your little projects to train, you hear me? I won't be responsible for anyone else becoming a part of this, ever again."

Down the other end of the porch John was squatting down and the little blonde kid was a few feet away holding his arms out.

"Come on, Sammy!" he was coaxing, and the baby wriggled in his father's hold and stamped one foot on the wooden decking eagerly. "He can do it, daddy," the boy said excitedly. "He took his first steps last week, he can walk really good now."

Sammy decided to prove him right and his father released his hold and let him take a step, pointed toes determinedly finding their footing. One more and he was swaying, big hands still hovering behind him. Then he was taking another, chubby feet steady as his big brother opened his arms and let the baby collapse against his shoulder.

"Clever boy!" John praised and Daniel shook his head, bitterness coating his tongue. A week ago this man had been puking in the bushes outside a house in Montana, then insisting on copying down the words of the exorcism in his journal even as sour bile dried on his flannel shirt. Two days ago they'd set a dummy up outside Daniels house and practiced the correct method to chop something's head clean off.

Today he was lifting his baby son out of his oldest son's grasp and blowing a raspberry on his cheek.

These two lives didn't go together but Daniel knew enough about the man he'd been training the last month to know that this stubborn sonuva bitch was going to try and make them.

"You think his first steps are all you're gonna miss, John?" he said bitterly.

John's smile melted away and he turned to face Daniel, grip tightening a little on his son's back. His oldest was leaning on his leg, studying the scene with worried eyes.

"You've got a choice now," Daniel said hoarsely. "Before this goes too far, before it gets too late. You've got two things to live for, which is more than a lot of folk have. Take them, John. And get them the hell away from this life."

"I'm doing this for them," John said firmly, one big hand lifting and settling on his son's head.

"Huh," Daniel grunted. "You tell yourself that, John, if you need to. But remember what I said about there being two reasons to get into this business? Well, I know which is yours, boy, I can see it in your eyes and I saw it the whole time I was growing up. Think hard before deciding if it's the face you want to show those boys of yours, while they're growing up."

John set his jaw stubbornly. "I'm doing what's best for my sons. I have to make sure they can take care of themselves. Face whatever's out there."

Daniel flicked a glance at the little boy, with his wide green eyes and snub nose, to the smiling baby, now leaning his head on one broad shoulder. He shook his head. Jim was right, it was already way too late to change John Winchester's mind. The kind of man that got this far down this particular road, well, he wasn't the kind who was going to be dissuaded by a few words now. All the same Daniel had one more thing to say.

"One day, John, you're gonna look at these boys of yours and see what you've done to them. One day you're gonna look back and remember what I said to you today." Daniel shook his head scornfully. "But take my word for it - by then it's gonna be way too late."

-666-

John stood and watched as he left, Daniel saw him in the rear view mirror until he pulled out of the drive and set about putting Blue Earth behind him for good. That damn preacher could find someone else to call and pass his next cause onto. Daniel was done with him and his charitable works.

Some way along the interstate Daniel flicked down the sun visor and glanced at the creased old picture taped there. One old lady in Kentucky had got Army to stop still long enough to take a picture of them both, and she'd sent it to Daniel later. Army was grinning, teeth white in his dark face, his big muscled arm flung around a scrawny teenage Daniel's neck.

"Huh," Daniel grunted, flipping the visor back up and away from that grin. "No disrespect, old man. But I'm not passing this life on to anybody, ever again."

And he never did.

---


End file.
